Why Art Galleries Can Be Dangerous
Never have I felt so dark and depressed in a museum as I did stepping into the modern art exhibition in Wellington, New Zealand.
I felt like my soul went wading through a tar pit.
I felt tired.
I felt... wrong.
We were wandering the streets in search of a new adventure when we stumbled upon a gorgeous building with interesting, glass windows, and stone etchings reaching three stories up. As soon as we saw the words "City Gallery" we sauntered right in.
The inside was surprisingly empty. The front hall had nothing to show except for a vast entryway, some strange pipes, and a glass elevator. When we headed upstairs to where we thought the artwork would be, we quickly realized that this was not at all what we were expecting.
The whole thing, sounds, visuals, frighteningly blank walls... all of it was awful and grim.
I consider myself a fairly spiritually tuned-in person, so when I walked through the strange and bizarre exhibits, I knew in my very soul that it wasn't just my head telling me that something was off. Internal alarm bells were ringing as I wandered from room to room. Though I tried to find the good and the adventure in the experience (as I always do), I couldn't shake that foreboding feeling.
The top exhibit was featuring a group of artists making "music" from different objects. Sounds cool, right? Except that their idea of music was incredibly dark and depressing. They were creating cacophonous laments out of pipes and rocking chairs. They took creepy videos of the process, too, with the moaning sounds of their makeshift instruments setting a grim tone over the exhibit.
Honestly, it felt like walking through a serial killer's head.
But the worst was yet to come. There were several pitch black rooms in the museum showing artistic videos that showed some kind of deeper meaning. The first video was very cool, following the on-foot journey of a monk through a modern world to compare old customs with new technology.
The second video was... less cool.
It was narrated in French, which should already tell you that it was disturbing and depressing.
It was a video of small figurines like you would find in a model train set, in an apocalyptic city called "La Towne" where the dolls were set up to be living their lives as usual despite the horrors happening in their backyard. Literally. Some featured violence, rape, murder, theft, others featured a house overrun with children while a horde of zombies waited outside the picket fence. At one point, there was a flooded train station with camels and sheep and police officers. The most bizarre segment by far, however, was a bedroom scene (again with little dolls) with an enormous flying whale peeking through the window.
WHAT.
We stayed long enough to feel like we gave the exhibit a shot and could fake that we understood this horrifying modern art exhibit and what it was trying to teach us, then bolted from the building.
We walked quietly along the street back into a more familiar part of town.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then we both turned to each other and agreed that we had to do something to cheer ourselves up and erase that thick darkness that followed us out of that place.
"I feel like I just went swimming in oil," I told her. She agreed.
So we set off in search of something to clean our souls. It took a while, but eventually, we were able to laugh and smile without it feeling forced, and we put the whole thing behind us.
But I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that experience.
Sometimes, even the most beautiful buildings from the outside can be toxic on the inside.
I felt like my soul went wading through a tar pit.
I felt tired.
I felt... wrong.
We were wandering the streets in search of a new adventure when we stumbled upon a gorgeous building with interesting, glass windows, and stone etchings reaching three stories up. As soon as we saw the words "City Gallery" we sauntered right in.
The inside was surprisingly empty. The front hall had nothing to show except for a vast entryway, some strange pipes, and a glass elevator. When we headed upstairs to where we thought the artwork would be, we quickly realized that this was not at all what we were expecting.
The whole thing, sounds, visuals, frighteningly blank walls... all of it was awful and grim.
I consider myself a fairly spiritually tuned-in person, so when I walked through the strange and bizarre exhibits, I knew in my very soul that it wasn't just my head telling me that something was off. Internal alarm bells were ringing as I wandered from room to room. Though I tried to find the good and the adventure in the experience (as I always do), I couldn't shake that foreboding feeling.
The top exhibit was featuring a group of artists making "music" from different objects. Sounds cool, right? Except that their idea of music was incredibly dark and depressing. They were creating cacophonous laments out of pipes and rocking chairs. They took creepy videos of the process, too, with the moaning sounds of their makeshift instruments setting a grim tone over the exhibit.
But the worst was yet to come. There were several pitch black rooms in the museum showing artistic videos that showed some kind of deeper meaning. The first video was very cool, following the on-foot journey of a monk through a modern world to compare old customs with new technology.
The second video was... less cool.
It was narrated in French, which should already tell you that it was disturbing and depressing.
It was a video of small figurines like you would find in a model train set, in an apocalyptic city called "La Towne" where the dolls were set up to be living their lives as usual despite the horrors happening in their backyard. Literally. Some featured violence, rape, murder, theft, others featured a house overrun with children while a horde of zombies waited outside the picket fence. At one point, there was a flooded train station with camels and sheep and police officers. The most bizarre segment by far, however, was a bedroom scene (again with little dolls) with an enormous flying whale peeking through the window.
WHAT.
We stayed long enough to feel like we gave the exhibit a shot and could fake that we understood this horrifying modern art exhibit and what it was trying to teach us, then bolted from the building.
We walked quietly along the street back into a more familiar part of town.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then we both turned to each other and agreed that we had to do something to cheer ourselves up and erase that thick darkness that followed us out of that place.
"I feel like I just went swimming in oil," I told her. She agreed.
So we set off in search of something to clean our souls. It took a while, but eventually, we were able to laugh and smile without it feeling forced, and we put the whole thing behind us.
But I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that experience.
Sometimes, even the most beautiful buildings from the outside can be toxic on the inside.
Wellington, New Zealand
I hosted a small gathering at https://whitehorsetavern1880.com/ for a friend's birthday, and it was a fantastic experience. The cozy atmosphere was perfect for our group, and the staff went above and beyond to accommodate our needs. The food was delicious, and the drinks were expertly crafted. It's clear that this establishment takes pride in its history and its commitment to hospitality. I highly recommend it for any occasion.
ReplyDelete